"I thought you wouldn't leave the indoors."

  "Normally, no. But I figured your little excursion was coming to an end, and it felt like a waste not to come out for a look."

  Inside a Jeep parked on the park’s grasslands, Ian Malcolm and Alan Grant sat in the passenger and driver seats, respectively. Ahead of them, the herbivores that had yet to be herded into the Ecological Zone were gathered together.

  Having been administered sedatives earlier, most of these dinosaurs were in a state of tranquil docility rather than deep sleep. Grant, similarly, felt no trace of drowsiness; he was staring intently at the herd before them.

  The herbivores lived together in a chaotic yet functional harmony. The Parasaurolophus kept to their own pods, yet they were interspersed among the Stegosaurus and Ankylosaurus herds.

  They defend themselves collectively, Grant thought. The Parasaurolophus lack formidable natural weaponry, so they stand among the armored species... No, more than that. From the frequency with which they lift their heads, they're acting as the early warning system.

  The hypothesis was forming. He only wished he could verify it. Grant couldn't help but smile; no matter how many times he saw them, these creatures never ceased to fascinate him.

  "Carnivore deployment complete," a voice crackled over the radio.

  "Copy that," another voice replied. After a two-second pause, it added: "Alright folks, let's get to work."

  Vroom... rrrr.

  Grant turned the ignition. Across the plain, the headlights of over twenty vehicles flickered on simultaneously.

  "Wait, you aren't actually planning on herding these behemoths like they're sheep, are you?" Ian suddenly realized the plan. He wasn't officially part of the operation, merely an observer.

  "I don't particularly agree with the method either, but they claim it's the most efficient way," Grant replied, his eyes fixed on the movement within the herd.

  "My God. Is it too late for me to get out of the car?" Ian joked, though his voice held a hint of genuine concern.

  "Relax. We're just trailing them to make sure no one falls behind." Grant spared him a brief glance before refocusing.

  "Aunnng—!"

  The lead vehicles began to move, and a series of alarm calls erupted from the herd. It was the Parasaurolophus.

  They began to trot. The Ankylosaurus and Stegosaurus followed just a beat behind, matching the pace of the hadrosaurs.

  Grant was stunned. Despite being different species, there was a profound level of mutual trust. The slower dinosaurs might not have known where the danger was, but they knew that if the Parasaurolophus were running, they should be too.

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  Soon, the Brachiosaurus noticed the commotion at their feet and began to lumber forward. They weren't fast, but the entire herd seemed to have rehearsed this; they clustered around the sauropods, matching their speed perfectly.

  They weren't "protecting" the Brachiosaurus, they were using them. No predator on earth would challenge an animal of that mass, and by staying close, the smaller herbivores shared in that immunity.

  "Incredible..."

  Grant felt the trip had already paid for itself. Studying these creatures face-to-face was providing enough data for an entire book.

  "Magnificent," Malcolm agreed, though his tone was slightly more glib than Grant’s.

  The process went smoothly. Entering from the southwest of the park, they herded the herbivores toward the Great Lake.

  "Assets at target location. Good job, everyone. Let's head home."

  A word of praise came over the radio, and the Jeeps began to turn around. Grant followed suit, but midway through the return trip, his Jeep shuddered violently, swerved, and ground to a halt.

  Malcolm clutched his head, looking pained. "You've got to be kidding me."

  Grant looked equally grim. He grabbed his radio and hopped out. "I'll check it."

  He clicked on his flashlight, checking the front right tire, then the rear. He repeated the process on the other side.

  "Flat tire."

  "How many?"

  "Just one."

  Malcolm let out a breath but remained slumped in his seat. "A beautiful night, a car breakdown, right next to the carnivore paddocks... what a lovely walk down memory lane. What could possibly be worse?"

  "A tropical storm?" Grant quipped, heading to the back to unstrap the spare.

  "Ah... you're right." Malcolm opened his door to help.

  "Hey, Doctors! Looks like you could use a hand."

  Another Jeep pulled up alongside them. Inside were two young men, looking bright-eyed and energetic.

  "I believe we do. We’ve got a puncture."

  "Leave it to us. This isn't work for men of your stature."

  Grant didn't argue; he accepted the help. Even if the carnivores were supposed to be sedated, this wasn't a place to linger. Ian, seeing they had enough hands, stayed by the car.

  "I'll keep a lookout for us."

  "Don't sweat it, Dr. Malcolm. The carnivores are all fast asleep."

  As they unbolted the damaged tire and jacked up the frame, the distant brush rustled. A dinosaur stepped out.

  "Uh... Alan? We might have a situation," Ian said from the roof of the Jeep. His voice wasn't loud, but it carried clearly to everyone below.

  "A herbivore?" Grant asked.

  "It's a bit too toothy for that."

  Grant looked up, and a cold sweat instantly broke across his skin. The two young men noticed his expression and turned as well.

  "Holy—"

  They managed to choke back their full scream, but the terror was evident. Twenty meters away, Carlo stood watching them. He began a slow, deliberate approach.

  "Erm... Alan? Do you have any expert advice for our current situation?" Malcolm’s words came out in a fast, trembling blur.

  "Don't move. Nobody move," Grant whispered, his lips barely moving.

  Seconds later, Carlo was standing directly over Grant. He lowered his head to inspect the man, his heavy snort blowing the hat right off Grant’s head.

  Why aren't they running? Carlo wondered. He was genuinely confused.

  "Dammit," Malcolm cursed under his breath. He grabbed a flare he’d kept ready and jumped off the Jeep.

  "Hey! Hey! Over here!"

  He ignited the flare. A brilliant, crimson light shattered the darkness.

  Carlo’s attention was instantly snatched away. In any environment, the most disruptive "student" always gets the teacher's attention first.

  Malcolm waved the flare in front of him, then threw it with all his might into the brush. He immediately froze, turning into a human statue. The last time he’d distracted a T. rex, he’d kept moving after throwing the flare, that was why the Rex had chased him. He wasn't going to make the same mistake twice.

  Carlo watched the flare fly, his eyes following the arc of light until it vanished into the trees. Then, he slowly turned his gaze back to Malcolm.

  The air stayed still for three agonizing seconds.

  "Great," Malcolm whispered. "This one's smarter."